“Quite an experience to live in fear, isn’t it? That’s what it is to be a slave.”

Blade Runner, 1982 (Harrison Ford), The Ladd Company

I knew I had to end my Vintage Cable Box series with, what I regard to be, one of the greatest movies ever made. Nothing can prepare you for Blade Runner after a couple of years of the standard cable television fare. Occasionally, you had the big-budget spectacles, fine examples of genre film-making, Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick, but Blade Runner was unique. I only vaguely remembered trailers and teasers running on broadcast television. I never saw a preview at the movies, nor did I even see the movie in theaters. Ridley Scott had made a name for himself as a first-notch filmmaker with The Duellists and Alien after paying his dues in production design and advertising. The script and story treatments for Blade Runner floated around for a couple of years while Scott was preparing an adaptation of Dune. The Dune project fell through (and would eventually be helmed by David Lynch), and Scott was eager to start working on Blade Runner, based on Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.

The year is 2019, and the place is Los Angeles. Our world in 2019 is a dystopian nightmare. Constant sheets of acid rain have destroyed the already-dilapidated metropolis and most humans have taken to life in “off-world colonies” (“The chance to begin again in a golden land of opportunity,” the advertisements proclaim). Replicants, initially considered a form of android but then ret-conned in 2017’s Blade Runner 2049 as “manufactured humans” have become a dangerous liability when confronted with their slave status and the built-in obsolescence of a four year life span. In an effort to control these replicants, developer Eldon Tyrell (Joe Turkel) implants memories in them, but this backfires when they inevitably crave life more than the humans who built them. Errant replicant Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) leads a bunch of them to jump ship and return to Earth to meet their maker. Enter Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), a replicant killer more commonly known as a “Blade Runner.”

Deckard is tasked with interviewing a beautiful woman, Tyrell’s assistant, named Rachael (Sean Young) who may or may not be a replicant. It seems Tyrell’s task is to either deceive authorities as to the identity of his replicants, or perhaps make his replicants believe they are human. It takes a while for Deckard to come to the conclusion that Rachael doesn’t know she’s a replicant. She saves his life when another replicant, the sub-intelligent Leon (Brion James) tries to kill him. He takes her back to his apartment and promises to keep her secret. Tyrell tells him she has no shut-off date; that she is, in effect, unique. Deckard retires the remaining replicants, but Batty proves to be a challenge. He taunts Deckard and leads him on a merry chase through the Bradbury Building. While Deckard is intent on finishing the job, Batty is fighting for his life, even as he knows his time is limited. Batty is incensed that Deckard has mercilessly killed his friends, and he tortures him for it. Ultimately, he spares Deckard’s life and perhaps Deckard has re-discovered his humanity.

Blade Runner was unfairly maligned by critics upon release in 1982, but over the years, the movie has attained an enormous cult following, culminating in the release of Blade Runner 2049 last year. In 1992, a “director’s cut” was released which removed the original film’s narration (considered by Scott to be tedious) and introduced a scene where Deckard dreams of a unicorn, making the reveal at the end of the movie (Deckard discovers a small origami unicorn in his hallway) ambiguous about Deckard’s humanity. Personally, I do not believe Deckard to be a replicant because, for me, it would make the ending of the movie and Batty’s sacrifice less meaningful. I would rather Deckard learn the lesson of his humanity, rather than believe him to be an amnesiac android. Blade Runner 2049 continues along this line of reasoning; perhaps what we value as humans is our capacity for understanding the gift of memory, and when our memories are manufactured, we will retain less of that value. Everything about this movie is perfect.

That about wraps it up for Vintage Cable Box. Again, I want to thank my readers. It’s been so much fun going back and revisiting and re-living these movies and that crazy time period, that time-line of what I saw and experienced and how it shaped me. Blade Runner just might be the most influential movie of the last 40 years, and it played constantly on cable television back in those days. Blade Runner 2049 manages to successfully evoke all of the best qualities about the original movie (and even improve upon certain aspects), which surprises me. Before I sign off, I have to thank a few people. Mark Jeacoma hosted these articles on his VHS Rewind! page. Andrew La Ganke suggested some great movies and found me a couple of hard-to-find titles. Geno Cuddy suggested Metropolis and provided a copy of the movie for me. Tony Verruso from the Vintage HBO Guides on Facebook was a staunch ally in dark times. Thanks for reading.

Our first cable box was a non-descript metal contraption with a rotary dial and unlimited potential (with no brand name – weird). We flipped it on, and the first thing we noticed was that the reception was crystal-clear; no ghosting, no snow, no fuzzy images. We had the premium package: HBO, Cinemax, The Movie Channel, MTV, Nickelodeon, CNN, The Disney Channel, and the local network affiliates. About $25-$30 a month. Each week (and sometimes twice a week!), “Vintage Cable Box” explores the wonderful world of premium Cable TV of the early eighties.

“Fairy Tale” was directed by James Frawley, written by Peter Meyerson, and aired on January 8, 1968. This is a memorable episode, and when you think of the series, this one’s bound to come to mind. It’s funny and unexpected. They break with the regular episode format and the usual premise of them as an out-of work band to show them acting out a comic stage play. I’m all for shows that can experiment and then return to their usual format. The episode takes place on sets with colorful backgrounds, such as ones used in some of the musical performances for “Valleri,” “Words,” and “Papa Gene’s Blues.” The sets are all cardboard and look like they were made for a school play. Instead of the usual poking fun at old movies, this story is a parody of the fairy tale genre, reminiscent of The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends “Fractured Fairy Tale” segments. Most kids watching the show had probably read books of fairy tales many times.

The Town Cryer, played by Regis Cordic, who was also the Doctor in “The Monkees Christmas Show,” blows a horn and sets up the story for us, “Once upon a time in Avon-on-Calling…” Avon-on-Calling is a joke referring to the “Avon calling” door-to-door cosmetics sales company and commercials. I remember Avon – both my grandmothers were into it. The Town Cryer introduces Mike the cobbler, Davy the tailor, Micky the innkeeper, and Peter the unemployed. The Cryer continues to narrate that Peter is out of work because he can’t stop dreaming about the princess. The other three advise him to give it up.

Peter plays the underdog role in this one, and he’s the perfect choice, having done it so well in “One Man Shy.” He’s the poor young hopeful hero, like the youngest son from “Puss in Boots” who ends up marrying a princess. Speaking of princesses, she’s in a carriage that just so happens to be stuck in the mud in Peter’s little town. Princess Gwen is played by Mike, with a long blonde wig (sideburns fully visible), false eyelashes, and an extremely unpleasant attitude. Mike’s Gwen performance contradicts the expected beautiful, sweet, and virtuous princess. Gee, I wonder if these two kids can work it out.

After the opening titles, Mike as-the-cobbler starts carrying on about what a great-looking chick Mike-as-Gwen is, (“those sideburns, that body”). This gag of Mike lusting after himself happens several times and is weird and funny. The Princess Gwen version of Mike shouts for her knight, Harold, to get her out of the mud. To my amusement, there’s a sign with an arrow helpfully pointing out where the “mud” is supposed to be on the set (as seen on the “title” graphic in this post).

Harold promises his “fair jewel of the east” that he’ll have her out of the mud in a moment. Mike bats false eyelashes at Harold. Just reading the previous sentence makes me laugh. Mike as a “pretty girl” is the funniest way the show could have gone. Micky does crazy things all the time, so if he’d played Gwen it wouldn’t be as unexpected. Davy as “pretty” is a little too obvious. Mike is the perfect choice for maximum comic effect.

Peter offers to carry Gwen out of the mud, but she says she’ll walk across his back instead. That’s a shame: I would’ve loved to have seen Peter Tork carry Michael Nesmith. Gwen warns Harold that if he doesn’t get the carriage out of the mud in 10 minutes, she won’t marry him. She walks across Peter’s back to get back into the carriage, and then Harold steps on Peter to talk to her. Micky pulls Peter out of the “mud,” and Peter kicks the sign in frustration.

Harold and his fellow knight, Richard, go to the Inn and demand food, launching a montage of them eating like savages with twinkly “la la” music playing. Mike and Davy help Micky wait on the unruly knights, giving them a plastic and rubber food feast (but real bread). It gets ridiculous as they start piling furniture on the tables for the knights to eat, and then the gag escalates as they bring lights, stands, and film equipment to the banquet.

Peter hears Harold telling Richard his plan: Richard will lock Gwen in the tower, torture her, kill her, and then Richard will stab himself. What’s in this for Richard? Before Peter can warn Gwen, the knights return to the carriage. Peter supplies his back for them to walk across again. Gwen rewards Peter by giving him her locket (Mike gets it caught in his wig but yanks it out and keeps going in character). They order the horsemen, Ric Klein and David Price, “let’s away!”

Peter tells Micky, Mike, and Davy (innkeeper, cobbler, and tailor) about Harold’s plan to lock Gwen up in a tower with “an imp-penetrable dragon.” He uses the p-popping trick that he used on the “Peter Percival Patterson’s Pet Pig Porky” track on Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd. Micky suggests the locket might be of use. Peter disagrees and bites it to demonstrate its cheapness. There’s a puff of smoke and the Fairy of the Locket appears, complete with a Bronx accent and hair half in curlers. They tell her the princess is in trouble. The Fairy identifies her as, “The selfish, conceited, overbearing one, oh, with the Texas accent?” This is classic fairy tale stuff gone goofy: the dragon, the magic locket, the fairy, and the rescue.

The Fairy starts giving orders. She tells Mike to make shoes that will “scale high walls.” Davy is to “sew me a suit of mail that nothing can penetrate.” Micky is supposed to turn a kitchen knife into a sword that can cut through iron. When this is done, Peter will take these things and save the princess. The Fairy tells Peter not to drop, crush or lose the locket. Not because it would lose its magic as Micky assumes but because, “I’ll be killed, stupid; it’s my home.”

Much miming and physical acting to “la-la-la” music as Mike, Micky, and Davy make enchanted objects for Peter. The score to this episode, with all the “La las,” “Uh-huhs,” and “magic lockets”, is funny all by itself and enhances the goofy tone. Peter ends up with chain-mail armor, a prop sword, and (to my amusement) wingtips. Mike, Micky, and Davy push Peter into the forest. Comically contradicting the hero archetype, he is not brave and wants to get out of it, “I don’t even like her anymore.” He suggests, “What about the army, 10,000 strong?” Nice Lord of the Rings reference, Peter. Once he’s on his own, the first person he meets is Davy as Little Red Riding Hood, Micky as Hansel and Davy as Gretel, and then Micky as Goldilocks. These are funny little bits, clashing with the expected image of well-known childhood fairy tale characters.

Peter gets to the castle and approaches the Dragon, who appears to me to be more the Asian New Year’s style than the medieval fantasy I would have expected. Peter is prepared to fight him with his magic sword, but the dragon doesn’t want to play that game. He asks Peter a riddle instead. Director James Frawley supplies the voice of the dragon, “What has two ears, two eyes, and a very short life.” Peter doesn’t know but that’s good enough for the Dragon, who lowers the drawbridge and allows Peter entrance to the castle.

Unfortunately, it’s a trap; Richard is waiting for him. Richard tries hitting him with a mace and club but the score tells us the “magic locket” is protecting Peter. Richard tries beating at him with his sword and shield but nothing hurts Peter. He has this beaming, adorable smile on his face the entire time as Richard is trying to kill him, as only Peter Tork could do. Richard runs off and Peter looks up at a stock footage shot of the Empire State building, identifying it as where the princess must be languishing. (“Languish, languish.”)

Peter does the Batman-style crawl up the wall with his anachronistic wingtips. He gets to the tower and asks Gwen to escape with him through the window, but she’s afraid of heights. Peter says she has nothing to fear because of his magic locket. Gwen realizes she gave him a valuable magic locket and demands it back. Harold and Richard enter the scene, and Harold orders Richard to “Get them.” Richard, showing more logic than his boss, asks, “Why should we do that? They’re already in prison.”

Because he no longer has the luck from the locket, Peter’s sword gets stuck when he tries to defend himself. He asks Gwen to return it, but snarks, “You’re going to fight them with a magic locket? You might as well do a dance to Spring.” The knights pull knives on Peter. Harold promises Gwen a torturous death, so she dumps him. With that, Peter and Gwen are now cellmates.

Back at the inn, the Monkees drink milk, as they did in “Hitting the High Seas.” The Town Cryer announces, while crying, that Peter will be executed. (Mike is mouthing the Cryer’s lines for some reason.) Mike, Micky, and Davy head off through the woods to rescue Peter. After searching for him for three days, they decide to split up. Micky runs into Little Red Riding Hood (Davy), and Davy runs into Goldilocks (Micky).

Nothing quite like a smutty joke in the middle of a fairy tale, eh kids? Micky, Mike, and Davy reach the castle and freak when they see the dragon. The dragon asks the riddle: “What has six eyes, six ears, and a short life?” Sharp-witted Micky quickly figures it out, “Three dumb peasants.” The dragon lowers the drawbridge and the Monkees jump to show the impact, and their jumps are deliberately out of sync with each other.

Gwen is shrieking in the tower as the knights are about to kill her. Mike, Micky, and Davy get up there and the knights and the peasants fight, mixed with footage of knights climbing a castle wall and fighting from some old film that I can’t identify, unfortunately. Gwen is flattered, “Defending my honor, isn’t that groovy? A bunch of long-haired weirdos and some vicious people.” Harold says he’s basically non-violent and Peter agrees, so they arm wrestle instead of sword fight.

Gwen finally tosses the locket back to Peter. Once he has it, Harold and Richard instantly give up the fight. Micky and Mike sing, “Robin men, Robin men, riding through the woods,” their own variation on the theme song to The Adventures of Robin Hood TV series. Gwen offers Peter anything he wants for a reward. Mike, Micky, and Davy prompt Peter to ask her to marry him, especially Mike who goes on about how hot she is again. Peter asks Gwen, but Mike breaks character, takes the wig off, and turns him down, “Yeah, I’m already married, man, Phyllis and Christian and my little kids.”

Mike-the-cobbler ends with, “Well, that wraps up another laugh riot” and reminds us to “Save the Texas Prairie Chicken.” They sing the Monkees theme a capella as they walk off and wave to the camera. The episode proper is followed by a brief interview segment. Bob Rafelson and the other Monkees tease Mike about playing Princess Gwen. He only comments, “I fail to recognize that I really did that you know.”

After this is the performance clip for the song “Daily Nightly” from the album, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd.The song was written by Michael Nesmith and the lyrics refer to the Sunset Strip curfew riots from 1966. This same riot was also mentioned in the interview segment for the episode “Find the Monkees.” The lyrics are beautiful and poetic, “Darkened rolling figures move through prisms of no color/Hand in hand, they walk the night/But never know each other.” The song also uses the Moog instrument, as did “Star Collector.” For “Daily Nightly” Micky played the unusual instrument himself. In the book the Monkees Day by Day (Andrew Sandoval, 2005), Peter mentioned that he thought Micky did a better job playing the Moog on “Daily Nightly” then session musician Paul Beaver did on “Star Collector.” According to Tork, instead of trying to play it like a “monophonic musical keyboard,” “Micky just made the Moog stand up and speak in a way that Paul Beaver didn’t have a clue.”

“Fairy Tale” really was a laugh riot, despite Nesmith’s sarcasm. Everyone’s big over-the-top acting suits the visual style with the flat sets and grade school theater costumes etc. There are so many good lines and funny sight gags. Nearly all the dialogue makes me laugh. The Monkees carry most of the comic weight themselves in “Fairy Tale,” playing multiple roles. The best part for me is that the two non-actor Monkees took the lead roles, and they really committed to it. The guest cast did their part to be hilarious as well; the dastardly Harold, and post-modern fairy.

“Fairy Tale” was an experiment that worked. It could’ve gone either way when they risked breaking the format, but it paid off in big laughs and a fun premise that kids can relate to, since they most likely know all those common fairy tales. It was fun to see those stories taken apart and played with, Monkees-style. The episode was obviously, for whatever reason, low budget. It seems to me that the crew and performers used their creativity to make that work for them and came up with hilarious episode.

by Bronwyn Knox

Every couple of weeks, “Monkees vs. Macheen” examines the crazy, spirited, Ben Franks-type world of the Pre-Fab Four: David Jones, Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, and Peter Tork alias The Monkees.

So three babes straight out of a Poison music video crash land on a planet of freaks who abduct them, as love-starved freaks are want to do. I’ve never understood that. Are women some incredible commodity in the future (or even in a galaxy far, far away)? Enter Wolff (Peter Strauss), a carbon-copy Han Solo, who picks up on a message rewarding a lot of money (or “credits” as the case may be) for the safe return of the heavy metal babes. His hot android engineer, Chalmers (Andrea Marcovicci) activates the drive system (if you know what I mean – heh) and they’re off to collect some space booty. Wolff’s ship houses a spiffy all-terrain vehicle that recalls James Cameron’s Aliens. The big problem is that Strauss seems too cultured (especially with his scholarly voice) to be a no-good, son-of-a-bitch, bastard salvage operator and part-time pirate. Maybe he was a disgraced Sociology professor.

They land on the alien babe planet in the middle of a skirmish. The visuals are strictly Mad Max, and it occurs to me now there was some effort set aside to make this a serious science fiction movie. Chalmers is killed (or deactivated) and the babes are taken away, but that doesn’t stop Wolff from finding his quarry. The alien freaks in this movie remind me of the mutants who crash Wyatt’s party at the end of Weird Science. Scrappy foul-mouthed (and stinky) orphan Molly Ringwald tries to steal Wolff’s wheels, but apparently she can’t drive a stick (a common problem with space orphans). With the promise of food, he takes her along as an adviser on the mysterious freak planet. Sick of her stench, he throws her in a lake and dumps soap all over her. Wolff hooks up with fellow countryman, Washington (Ernie Hudson) who offers a partnership to find the space babes, but nothing comes of it. What? Dispensing with Hudson’s character keeps the clash between Strauss and Ringwald more entertaining.

Of course all of this tension is meant to make us like the characters. Wolff, up until the point he saves a malnourished Molly Ringwald (the both of them suffering dehydration on a planet of poisoned water), comes over as an insufferable prick, but I blame the humor producer Ivan Reitman and his recruited writers, Len Blum and Daniel Goldberg, injected into David Preston and Edith Rey’s otherwise somber first draft. The script obviously parodies 2001: A Space Odyssey, Barbarella (itself a parody), Star Wars, Buck Rogers, and the Mad Max movies, but the material would’ve better served the comic timing of a Bill Murray or a Dan Aykroyd. Indeed, with Elmer Bernstein’s music, Spacehunter plays like a precursor to Ghostbusters. Meanwhile we have the great Michael Ironside (who really doesn’t need ghoulish makeup to look ghoulish) as some kind of a hideous, spider-robot creature with a taste for hot alien space babes, because why not?

In the end, Wolff rescues Molly and the space babes (with an able assist by Hudson) and dispatches Ironside, but the story feels lop-sided. Like 48 Hrs., we spend more time getting to know our protagonists than we do understanding or assessing Ironside’s motivation; as a spider-robot thing, he needs life essence to function and only women will do. Works for me! This is another in a series of hip and goofy space comedies such as Ice Pirates and the Reitman-produced/Goldberg and Blum written Heavy Metal made two years previous. While the movie was originally photographed and shown in 3-D, the film elements removed from the process hold up surprisingly well. In fact, this is one of the better-looking 2-D movies (even with some very cheesy animated visual effects) made from 3-D, unlike Jaws 3D and The Man Who Wasn’t There. Director Lamont Johnson directed several episodes of the classic Twilight Zone television anthology series, including “The Shelter” and “Kick the Can.”

Our first cable box was a non-descript metal contraption with a rotary dial and unlimited potential (with no brand name – weird). We flipped it on, and the first thing we noticed was that the reception was crystal-clear; no ghosting, no snow, no fuzzy images. We had the premium package: HBO, Cinemax, The Movie Channel, MTV, Nickelodeon, CNN, The Disney Channel, and the local network affiliates. About $25-$30 a month. Each week (and sometimes twice a week!), “Vintage Cable Box” explores the wonderful world of premium Cable TV of the early eighties.

American novelist Stephen King once described Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of his book, The Shining, as a “… great big beautiful Cadillac with no engine under the hood. You could sit in it, enjoy the smell of the leather upholstery … the only thing you couldn’t do was drive it anywhere.” Krull from 1983 is the Cadillac of science fiction/fantasy motion pictures. Derek Meddings’ production design is an incredible feast for the eyes. James Horner’s Star Trek-like musical compositions are appropriately epic in scope. The visual effects and photography are awe-inspiring. Lysette Anthony is unbelievably beautiful as the damsel-in-distress Princess Lyssa. Unfortunately, the movie takes us nowhere but the back-alleys of Star Wars retreads.

When the Princess is abducted by the evil “Slayers” interrupting her wedding to Prince Colwyn (Ken Marshall, resembling a young Richard Chamberlain), he summons the power of the “Glaive”, the five-bladed handheld pinwheel that looks like an over-sized throwing star seen in the film’s promotional advertisements (and which I’ve always wanted to own), from the top of a mountain and bands together with a motley crew of criminals (among them Liam Neeson and Robbie Coltrane in early roles) in a bid to rescue her. While we have our requisite laser light show, Krull is a movie that favors swordplay, Errol Flynn-style leaps from balconies, and swinging from chandelier ropes. The strange, slimy, tentacled “Beast” informs the Princess that she is to marry it, perhaps to destroy the prophecy of the “girl that shall become queen.”

Colwyn is tutored by the wizardly Ynr (Freddie Jones as “The Old One”), collects his “merry” men, and heads for the Black Fortress, the stunning starship/castle that appears to be built out of a mountain. In a narrative reminiscent of Bert I. Gordon’s The Magic Sword, Colwyn and his band of mercenaries must overcome disparate “challenges”, such as a misanthropic (and rather unpleasant) cyclops, various illusions conjured by the Beast, and assorted Slayers sent to assassinate Colwyn. Meanwhile, Ynr must monitor his sands of time (given to him by ex-girlfriend, The Widow of the Web); for when the last of the sand diminishes, he will die. It’s nice to know when you’re gonna go, is all I’m saying! I remember being frightened by the giant spider in the movie when Ynr traverses an enormous web to to see his old squeeze. Giant spiders freak me out!

It can even core an apple!

An enormously expensive movie (for the time) when produced, Krull would’ve benefited from substantial rewrites. As it stands, the performers merely serve as window-dressing for truly beautiful art direction, cinematography, and stunning action set pieces. Krull is everything I love in science fiction and fantasy, except that it lacks substance. The story is a lazy mix of Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Clash of the Titans (another early cable favorite of mine), with a little bit of Robin Hood and Jason and the Argonauts thrown in for good measure. Recently, I watched an excellent high definition transfer of the film, and as much as the technical aspects of the film are heightened by it, the deficiencies of the editing and screenplay are displayed as well.

Our first cable box was a non-descript metal contraption with a rotary dial and unlimited potential (with no brand name – weird). We flipped it on, and the first thing we noticed was that the reception was crystal-clear; no ghosting, no snow, no fuzzy images. We had the premium package: HBO, Cinemax, The Movie Channel, MTV, Nickelodeon, CNN, The Disney Channel, and the local network affiliates. About $25-$30 a month. Each week (and sometimes twice a week!), “Vintage Cable Box” explores the wonderful world of premium Cable TV of the early eighties.